The Range of Change

Change.

Like a lot of things in life, change can be good or bad, welcomed or uninvited. Change doesn't really give a damn if you are ready for it or not. Sure our actions can speed up the process or the outcome of certain changes, but at the end of the day we never have total control.

Ugh, control....another word I have beef with.

With so many changes coming my way i'm really starting to feel torn. Literally. Half of me feels so wonderful, free, and excited for all the amazing things down the road. However, the other half feels like its buried under so many layers of shit, that it won't be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel anytime soon. Trying to get these two sides to meet in the middle and join forces is like trying to get my almost 5 year old to wipe her own rear end- impossible.

My Mother wrote to me often from the time I was born, until I was about 6. Most of these letters were saved in my baby book. The majority were your basic milestone notations, etc. I recently found one from shortly after my parents divorced and it really hit me -I am the same age as my Mother when she left my dad. My girls are also the same ages my sister and I were. I am so thankful my mom wrote to me as often as she did. Until now, I always thought it was just to document things, and while that may be the case, I now know she also did it because she was lonely. My Dad worked hard and drank even harder back then, and my Mom was all alone. As I read her letter, she went on to tell me how I have adapted so well to all the changes and have had no visible problems stemming from my parents split, but that I am one that conceals her feelings a little too well. I was 5. She was dead on though. To this day, I have the same problem. Every person has a threshold, the point where they just can't hold it in anymore. Everyone handles it in a different way. Some choose to walk away from the situation, feeling that's best. Others express emotion and try to work it out, and some people give both a try. I've leaked that emotion out a few times now, but not nearly as much as I should have given the circumstances. I've been heartbroken about what it's doing to everyone and everything around me, just not as upset as I should be over what it's doing to me and the other person involved. I'm somewhat of a contradiction that way I suppose. A huge lover at heart that wants rainbows and unicorns shitting glitter at all times, but it has to be something within my control, and when I find it's not, I just turn off the light. But not until I try and turn the situation back into something I can control about 10 times first! #controlfreak. I do however, refuse to become bitter because my life didn't stay in the perfect bubble everyone thought I lived in- complete with the dog and picket fence.

Since one person can't singlehandedly control all the changes around them they have to sit back and let it ride every so often, just hoping that their intentions were right and the outcome is what was meant to be. I find so much strength in my girls, which is crazy because they wear me out daily! I can't protect them from all that is happening now, I just hope I give them enough love each day that they feel as little of the pain as possible. I have been viewed in many different ways during this crazy time, both good and bad. Being a people pleaser, dealing with people not on my side has been wildly difficult. The good thing about that now is that my skin is just a little thicker. I could sit here and be angry that I am currently in a place I vowed to never be, literally. Knowing I chose it could only make it worse. Or I could embrace the change, even if it's nothing but rough waters for a bit, and just be damn thankful I know how to swim.

Size Does Matter

Size does matter.

Now get your minds outta the gutter folks, this is regarding my useless skin bags, aka the baby feeders. These puppies have been mentioned briefly many times before in the bloggy, but I really want to get down to the nitty gritty and get some stuff off my chest. Not that there's much left. Hahahaha get it!?!? 

I've never been blessed with the chest, but things have really hit a new low since having kids. Mom's- I know there are more of you out there that feel me here!? There was a brief time where I was a D cup and popping out of my shirt, but that came along with a 68lb weight gain and an infant. It also looked as if my boobs literally ate my neck. Not cool.  Now what's left looks like stretched out balloons, that have no feeling and can't even fill out a T-shirt properly. I've been called every name in the book over the years- mosquito bites, AAA, itty bitty. I could keep going but I'm having flashbacks of my youth riding home on the school bus. They are small. I'm used to it. I own it. Would it be nice to not look like a teenager? Sure, but it is what it is. It would also be nice to not have my stomach stick out past my chest after consuming 80% of a pizza to myself in one sitting on a lonely Friday night. But hey, I could also cut back on gorging that many carbs at once. I highly doubt that will ever actually happen though.

I couldn't even feed my babies with these things. Hence the name "useless skin bags." I tried it all. Working with an awesome lactation consultant, aka Boobie Queen. Pumping prior to birth. I remember sitting on the couch during the end of my pregnancy with baby #2, hand expressing milk while holding a syringe to the end of my boob, just trying to get as much colostrum saved up as possible. It took me weeks to save up enough for about 5 feedings when she was born- if that. It was like searching for liquid gold. Literally. I ate special cookies to help. Not thoooosseee kind of special cookies either. Eventually, I had to face the fact that these mini jugs just weren't going to cooperate.

The biggest slap in the face wasn't when I couldn't feed my kids, or when I bent over and noticed they look like the ends of bananas. It was when I recently discovered that Nordstrom doesn't even sell my size in the women's department. WHAT THE FRENCH TOAST PEOPLE?!!? What am I supposed to do? Resort to getting one from the kids section that's neon colored with bedazzlement that's totes cool, and says something like YOLO or BFF on it?!

I think I'll pass on that, and I'm about to pass on wearing one all together. Ok, not really.

A Finely "Polished" Poo

Shit got real (literally) when my 4 year old hollered for toilet assistance recently. While I was super thrilled that she actually went on her own without a fight, I had just taken a solid 5 minutes to myself and painted my nails right before I was summoned to the scene of the crime. I had two choices, try and help her, or create a stall tactic and buy some time so my nails could dry. Because lets face it, I was out of nail polish remover and wasn't going to haul to kids to Target to get more once I ruined my paint job wiping tush. I would walk out of there spending $100 dollars on clearance items that end in a .48 or .98 (Frequent Target shoppers know the drill there) when all I really needed was polish remover for .97 cents.

So what do I do? I walk in the bathroom, turn on some music, and do a little potty dance to help buy some time while the freshly painted nails on my baby hands dry. I'm fairly certain that if my life was recorded, I would have a nice savings account by now. Not for my dancing skills, but for all the randomness that happens around here on the daily. Kaelyn started at me with the OH MY GOSH MOM face for about two seconds, wiped her own rear, and high tailed it outta there. I guess it was really a win for me since she finally took matters into her own hands, again...literally...and I got some cardio in for the day with my dance moves, since we all know I don't work out. I got cocky for 2 seconds, clenched my fist, and did a little yesssssssssssss dance move to myself to celebrate the fact that my kid finally wiped her own ass.

That is when I ruined my freshly painted nails ya'll.

Off to Target we go. I walked out with ziplock bags, toothpaste, Clorox wipes, diapers, an owl t-shirt and undergarments. Didn't even think to get the nail polish remover. Target is evil, pure evil.

Some days the girls are just growing up too fast for this Mama's liking. While I am THRILLED my oldest finally wants to use the toilet alone, other areas of growth are creeping me out. Last week I walked down the street to get her from playing with the neighbors. Ben is one of her "boyfriends" and as she walks toward me I see her turn around and put her hand on Bens face. She said goodbye and as she walked away she said..."I'll kiss you later Ben, on the face!" WHHHHHHATTTTTTTTTTT?! Little Leah chimes in and says "Yeah on the face!" while throwing her fist in air. My little lover and my little fighter, two complete opposites.